Past Cards: I’m Still Waiting For That Letter that ancer


I like to share my collection of vintage postcards here. I have not done one of these posts in awhile and I figured it was time again (other past card posts here and here).

It seems throughout time there have been unanswered lovers and letters.

When I saw this post card, I knew I wanted to own it. It combined both of the above. This is what it says:


“hellow Jettie

Say I would like to no the reason I havent never got my ancer from my letter
Looks like you wood ancer
do so at once
ha ha
So good By

a Friend R”

I cringe at the grammatical errors, however, the postcard was sent in 1912 from a rural Kentucky town with a population of less than a 1,000. There were probably not a great many schools to choose from and a lot of hard work to be had.

The post card makes me sad. Sometimes it makes me wonder. Did the girl respond to the boy? Did they get married? Could I send this postcard to their children? What happened to the two individuals so long ago?

I wondered so much about this postcard that I did some research into the name that the card was addressed to. It seemed curious to me that if the girl in question did not want to answer the boy, then why would she keep the post card all of those years? Why not throw the card away? If she had thrown the card away, then I never would have purchased it. And I would not have looked up the girl to find her fate.

The woman who received this postcard was eighteen when it arrived in her mailbox. Her name was Jettie. I find that I like that name.

This is what I learned about Jettie:

She never married.
She lived near a railroad.
Her family were farmers.
Her occupation is unlisted, so I assume she did not have one.
She passed away at the age of 59 in her home she shared with her sister.
She was buried in the family cemetery.
A Kentucky census listed her age as 19 in the year of 1910, but she was born in 1894, so the census was incorrect.
She was an Aquarius.

I wonder if the boy waiting for his ancer ever received one. If he did, it is obvious, it was not the one that he had been hoping for.

Did he ever marry? Did he attend Jettie’s funeral? What made Jettie keep the postcard all of those years (neither her, nor her three siblings, ever married. There has to be a story there. And I assume the possessions, including this post card, were sold or donated after the last sibling’s death by a distant relative or by the state)?

When I began researching this story, I had hoped for a better ending. One in which the boy won the girl over with a relentless stream of letters.

But maybe Jettie liked being independent. Or maybe she tossed and turned dreaming about the boy in another town as the train rumbled on the track and shook her bedpost so that it tapped against the wall in the exact rhythm of her heart. Or maybe she lost no sleep at all.

I, myself, toss and turn. And I wonder.

Past Cards: This Is Your Little Girl

Every month, I pick one of my vintage post cards from my collection to share with you. It isn’t easy. I have a lot of them. And, I try only to buy the ones that make me laugh inside. If you missed last month’s you can find it here.

For this month, I picked a short but sweet one. It is dated Feb. 13, 1912:


The front of the Post Card reads:

“Be The Day Rainy
Or Be The Day Fine
The Sunshine Comes With You
My Sweet Valentine”

It appears to be hand written. And, honestly, the picture appears to be hand painted. But it is raised and embellished, so I am unsure on that note.


The back of the postcard reads:

Dear Edward this is your little girl. Isn’t she sweet.


And, I know. I know I have a sick sense of humor that I find this card so funny that it brings tears to my eyes. But I just imagine Edward getting this post card and him looking at the illustration of the little girl and it just seems crazy to think he that thought that was his little girl.

And it was mailed from the same town to the same town. So, he was not someone overseas who had not seen his “little girl.”

I have to wonder what this card meant. And all of my theories point to poor Elizabeth being a bit addled in the head.

Also, this was a Valentine’s Card. Isn’t that an odd message to send on a Valentine’s card?

Over one hundred years ago, Master Edward received a Valentine’s Card with a cartoon drawing of a little girl on the front from Elizabeth.

And I have to answer Elizabeth’s question of, “Isn’t she sweet?” with a few of my own.

Elizabeth, what were your and Edward’s real names? I suspect based on the picture of your little girl that perhaps your initials really were O.O.

And, Popeye Edward, would you care for some spinach?

Past Cards: Rubber Mops

I’m introducing a new blog feature. It is kind of similar to my monthly post “Overheard In,” but instead of eavesdropping on individuals via listening, I am eavesdropping into the past through old postcards.

One of my many collections consists of old postcards that people have written on.

It is like a peek into that family’s soul sphere. Yes, I did just write “soul sphere.” And I made that word up. Blame my thighs. They are responsible for most of my bad decisions.

I pick the postcards that speak to me.

Only my thighs can understand the words, though.

Today we have:



This post card was posted on September 12, 1947.

It reads:

Dear Jean, and all.

It is now 12:30 a.m. Just got in this is where I stayed last night and again tonight. Lots of people at fair today (Thu). I am out of rubber mops. Just taking mail orders now. Lots of love.

S. H. M.

Me too.

Or rather, what?

I looked up “rubber mops” to write this post, but cannot find anything on them in the 1940’s. I think it is a good thing that he ran out of rubber mops. I think S. H. M. was a rubber mop sales person or invented rubber mops? What could the initials S. H. M. stand for?

Swiffer Hater Man

Sells Hoarders Mops

Spanks Helper Monkeys (Sorry. Wrong post.)

Saves Happy Maids

I wonder if Jean received this letter and was excited that all the mops were sold. I wonder if she was going to get some of the mop money.

Had she been doubtful of this venture? Was he like, “Honey, I’m going to invest all of our money into mops made of rubber. And sell them at a fair.”

Did she cry into her mop made of yarn as he left for the fair?

So many questions.

I do not think I have ever used a mop.

I certainly have never purchased one (Swiffer user).

S. H. M. would be so disappointed in me.


Oh great.

Now my thighs are crying.

Where’s a rubber mop when you need one?

I guess they were all sold out at a fair in the summer of 1947.


P.S. I shared this on Savvy Southern Style.

And My Romantic Home.